The Seekers Ch. 2 – Dusk and Darkness
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat, his hands clenched around his rifle. He saw Uncle John freeze in tension from the corner of his eye. What did he miss? Only then did he register the cold metal of the gun against the back of his head.
Sweat trickled down Charlie’s neck as he remained still and silent, making sure not to provoke their assailant. The heavy, slow breathing behind him contrasted with the slow dripping of rainwater and occasional distant rumbling in the otherwise silent gas station. How did he not notice that breathing when he first entered this damp place? More importantly, how did John miss that sound?
Seconds stretched like minutes, agonizingly so. Hesitantly, Charlie spared a glance at John, desperately searching for a reassuring look to latch on to. John was supposed to be his guide and guardian, the seasoned Seeker protecting him in these rugged Outlands. Where was that self-assured seen-it-all look now? Then Charlie noticed how Uncle was slowly reaching for his boot knife. Did their assailant notice? What if he did?
Suddenly, an eerie scraping of metal on the tile floor echoed through the room. Too distant to have come from their assailant. Did he bring a partner, hiding in the shadows? A hand shoved them forward, past the tattered cloth coverings and inside the desolate makeshift home between shelving cabinets. Charlie narrowly stepped over the bones of the original inhabitants as he stumbled away from the entrance. The shove was more gentle than Charlie expected, and more urgent as well.
Charlie turned around, back against the cabinet. Their assailant was shorter than Charlie expected, wearing a slightly too-large dusty brown boiler suit, complete with gloves, dented metal helmet, and gas mask. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask as he motioned them to remain silent. John eyed the stranger briefly, then gave Charlie a reassuring nod.
Beyond the cloth coverings of the improvised home, something stalked. Rhythmic metal scraping echoed through the abandoned gas station, like the treading of a predator. A shadow passed by, inhuman. A flash of lightning visible through the ceiling cracks revealed a quadruped beast larger than Kratos, Aunt Vera’s guard dog. Large knife-like claws glinted briefly in the flash, big enough to slice through a boar. Charlie saw John leveling his rifle at the monster, but the gas-masked man quickly waved the gun away and motioned him to stay low. John was clearly not agreeing but complied.
Charlie spared a glance at the original inhabitants of the home they were hiding in. The skeletons near the long-cold fireplace did not show any signs of mutilation by a beast. Did that mean the predator found this place long after, like they did? The beast didn’t look like any animal roaming around the forests back at Camp Grove, so where did it come from? Charlie had to get out of here soon, before the evening set in. Not just for the safety of John and himself, but to get back to Reggie in time before the Darkness came again.
Their assailant shifted, tracking the beast behind the coverings. He signaled something to them and reached for his utility belt, retrieving a small silver disk. A soft blue light started to blink on the disk just before he threw it outside. The disk coasted to the wall at the far end of the abandoned gas station and landed with a click. The blue light blinked twice, then the disk started to buzz and project shapes of light. The beams of light fizzed briefly, then took on the exact appearance of their assailant. The figure – a clone made out of light – started waving at the beast, and even yelled with a metallic voice. If Charlie hadn’t known any better, he’d swear there was a second gas-masked stranger. The light clone was uncanny lifelike. Fortunately, the beast took the bait and charged the light clone, knocking over several cabinet shelves that were blocking its path.
Charlie felt Uncle John tugging him along out of their hiding place. Their gas-masked man was already heading for the exit. Urgently, Charlie dashed along, narrowingly avoiding the puddles and shattered pieces of glass on the floor. In front of them were the broken doors leading to the outdoor canopy. Charlie jumped through the glassless steel frames and joined the other two outside.
Another flash of lightning broke the sky, the long shadows cast by the corroded gas pumps and chargers danced in the dimly lit place. The rain clattered loudly on the canopy of the old gas station. Behind him, Charlie could still hear the beast ravaging inside, assaulting the light clone. Should they just quietly walk away now while the monster is still distracted? He eyed John. But Uncle was pointing his rifle at the large, black charger boxes to their right, tense.
I missed something again, didn’t I? Charlie thought disgruntled, fumbling for his own weapon.
The sound of gunfire echoed beneath the canopy. Metal scraped on the pavement. A second beastly predator dropped in front of the charger boxes. Its steel claws flayed the fractured roadway, causing nearby birds to cry out and flee from their shelter. The beast quickly recovered though, and Charlie held his breath as the creature turned its head and fixed its gaze upon him. Old bruises on his shoulders suddenly flared up again as his muscles locked up. Memories of the Darkness, inevitable and dangerous. At that moment, Charlie instinctively knew he had no hope against this monster. It would pound him, rake him, shred his skin from his bones. It would…
“Charlie,” John’s voice, cutting through the fog in his mind, “snap out of it boy!”
Charlie inhaled sharply, his whole body shaking. The others were running away from the monster, towards the other side of the canopy. John shouted urgently and fired another round at the predator. The bullet scraped its metallic eye, briefly distracting the beast. Charlie took the moment and scrambled away, his whole body electrified.
Their gas-masked man hopped through the side door of a large, rusty van. He leveled his own rifle at them and shot. Charlie squeezed his eyes in dread, still dashing forward, but nothing hit him. Then he heard the bullet scrape off the metallic body, the beast was right behind him. Is it that close? Damn, that beast was fast.
John jumped inside the van and held his hand out. Rain hit Charlie’s face like cold daggers as he reached the edge of the canopy and ran towards Uncle’s outstretched hand. Another rifle shot rang in his ears. Pain pierced his back. The world around him tumbled. He heard the beast slamming into the pavement nearby. Strong hands grabbed him. With a clang, cold metal banged violently against his head. His vision swam, then all went black.
An acrid smell filled the air. Startled, Charlie slowly opened his eyes, looking around. Thick black smoke swirled between gray tree trunks. An oppressive coldness permeated the dead forest, devoid of life or light. Charlie knew this place, he had been here before. The smoke obscured the familiar trees and clouded his senses. He was painfully aware of his own heartbeat, beating like a drum, just a tad too loud.
A twig snapped behind him. He spun around, his muscles tensing up. A girl disappeared behind one of the gray trunks. Reggie, Charlie thought woefully. His instincts told him to run after her before something terrible would happen. Protect her against the Darkness, before the black smoke could consume her. But it was futile, he knew. It always was.
“Charlie,” a sickly dry voice called out to him.
It was his mother again. She stood right there, her skin lifeless gray, her eyes full of fear and pain. She reached out with one hand, desperate to connect with her son one last time. A tear streamed down Charlie’s face. He reached out, his fingers almost touching hers. Then mother’s skin started to flake and fracture. Her fingers turned to dust, blown away by a nonexistent gust of wind before he could touch her. Forever out of reach.
A howl of anguish suddenly echoed through the dead forest. Charlie tensed up and froze in place. He knew what would come next. His body reacted instinctively. The Darkness, inevitable and dangerous.
“DAMN her!” a deep voice boomed like a tremor from all directions at once, “damn them all to hell!”
The man suddenly stood in front of Charlie. His pungent breath heavy with moonshine, his eyes blank as he stared at Charlie without really seeing him. He stood there for a heartbeat, the world reduced to his dreaded gaze, then he threw his glass flask against a nearby tree. The liquor burst into flames as soon as it flung from the shattered container. A tower of fire roared into existence around them as tree trunks ignited. Blazing heat and suffocating black smoke surrounded them, trapped them.
“And DAMN this useless son!” A heavy fist slammed into Charlie and knocked him back into the real world.
Sweat streamed down his face as Charlie jolted upright. Damp linen wrappings clung to his pounding forehead. His vision swam. How long has he been out for? Where was uncle? Did they manage to escape the beast’s clutches?
Faint flickering light shone through a rusty window. Charlie recognized the familiar whistle and trill of a mockingbird, calling out for a mate outside. He was in some kind of small cabin back in the Grove woods then. Not a cabin, this is that old van, he realized.
Slowly, Charlie stood up. His back was smarting fiercely for some reason. Crouching, he shuffled towards the window, keeping his silhouette low and out of sight. A whiff of smoke and honey blew in through the window. Wood crackled softly in the small campfire outside the van. Was that Uncle John sitting there on one of the oak logs?
“He’s awake.” An unseen voice said, soft and steady.
“Charlie? How are you feeling, my boy?” Uncle John’s voice was softer than usual.
Charlie slid the van door open and climbed out. Uncle’s shoulder and chest were wrapped in linen, the same stained yellow as Charlie’s. The metal monsters, had they left the beasts at that old gas station, or were they lurking in the shadows of these dark trees? He recalled the rusty van at the edge of the gas station’s canopy, gunshots up close, the gas-masked man. Their assailant, did he harm them in the end? Wait, where was that assailant now?
Charlie looked around the small campfire. A second person walked up to the crackling fire, carrying a black cast-iron cooking pot. She wore a slightly too-large dusty brown boiler suit and her unruly white hair struggled to escape her braid. A dented metal helmet and gas mask lay nearby on the leaf-covered ground. She placed the cooking pot next to the white-hot logs and covered the lid with smoldering embers.
“It seems,” John began, a hint of amusement on his face, “that we were caught off guard by this intrepid lady.”
“It seems to me,” the girl replied, “that you barely escaped those Roamers.”
Charlie blinked in confusion. She was the seasoned assailant who bested John Raddik, Seeker of Camp Grove? She can’t be, the girl looked barely older than himself!
“Tell me,” the girl continued, “what brings a Seeker and his apprentice boy to the edge of Spanner territory?”
“Spanner?” John said surprised, “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I take it you haven’t lived through the Winter though, that was before your time? Where did you find a name like that?”
“Hold on,” Charlie interjected, “who are you calling a boy? Uncle, who is this girl?”
“This woman,” she replied testily, “is the one who saved you from the claws of not one but two Roamers, green boy. You can call me Dusk.”
Charlie blushed, then awkwardly made his way to sit on the log next to John. Uncle gave him one of his small smiles, then put his arm around him and squeezed his shoulder.
“These Roamers, as you call them,” John asked, “you encountered them before?”
“Fought them off at Camp Church,” the woman replied as she handed out grilled corn cobs.
“Church’s still standing? Bless the Goddess, we thought that place was lost to the Great Winter.”
“It was,” Dusk nodded, “we reclaimed it just six years ago.”
Charlie ate his cob in silent confusion as the conversation continued. Camp Grove was all he knew, he never considered the existence of other camps. Much of the wider world was still a black patch on his tablet’s digital map. It made him wonder how much of the world was still shrouded from him, waiting to be sought out, explored, and mapped. He needed rest first though, with his forehead and back still aching. He looked around the dark forest ruefully. It was well past evening and darkness already had settled in. He hoped Reggie would be spared this night.
“I must tell Sarah, she’ll be delighted to hear all about Church,” John said between bites. “We’ll make our way back to Camp Grove in the morning.”